Reflections
by Lagalos
Summary: Characters look back at the events of the OotP. (OotP spoilers, chapters are not in chronological order)
1. Reflections of an Old Man's Mistakes

Reflections of an Old Man's Mistakes  
  
It was a clear and cold afternoon, as the days of early September often are. Gazing out of the window I could see the grounds below in autumn splendor. The forbidden forest was a sea of golds and reds and oranges; the lake seeped up and down the shore as the waters tumbled in a fall breeze. Hagrid was busy marching across the grounds, looking for problems in the boats and getting ready for the arrival of the train.  
  
Though the sight was warming to my heart the wind was quite the opposite and I was forced to retreat to my desk.  
  
My office was quite warm compared to the world outside the castle; I was almost roasting to tell you the truth. Just one of the many woes of the old; you're never quite the right temperature. I had defeated dark wizards, taught magic and knew more spells than most wizards on Earth, yet I still was unable to sit down in a properly heated room.  
  
I sat down behind my desk and looked over my office. All the trinkets and instruments from a long lifetime of collection stood polished and organized, all the paintings of great wizards come and gone sat snoozing in their portraits, and Fawkes was perched upon one of my many bookcases, enjoying casing some bugs around the shelves.  
  
Sitting down can have a strange effect on aged bones and I quickly found myself being drawn into a nap like the rest of the headmasters around me.  
  
Now I am partial to the odd nap and find them rather restful, but today the sleep was restless and worrisome. Too many things were floating about my mind, in truth it was more cluttered than my office. Things were continuously crossing my mind; old friends, old loves, old enemies, and a boy; his image more than any other lingered within my head.  
  
Harry Potter, the boy who lived. I almost snorted at that thought. He was a boy yes, but what life was he ever allowed; what freedoms was he ever given? He had no one to love, no fond memories of early youth, and now, no one even like a parent to look up to.  
  
Sirius had been the last one Harry had. True he had Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley, but they didn't quite understand, though try they might. They had been surrounded by those who love and care for them since they were born; they had been brought up by a kind and loving family; they had known their parents.  
  
But Harry would never know his parents, Sirius had been the closest thing to a father he had ever known. But now he too was beyond Harry. He too had left Harry alone. He too had traveled beyond the veil, where eventually we must all go.  
  
It should have been me I began to think in my weary slumber. Sirius should still be here and I should be gone. Sirius had been Harry's Godfather, but what had I done? I had taken him from a world of those closest to his parents and thrust him into ten years of horror at the hands of the Dursleys. It had been I who continuously sent him to their home though he would rather be anywhere else on Earth. It had been I who had held back the prophesy from Harry. It was I who caused the death of Sirius Black.  
  
We are all insignificant in the end. Harry is what matters now, for it is Harry who must risk all and lose some; Harry who must be the champion for those without one; Harry who must face the end; Harry who must defeat Voldemort.  
  
Through my mind raced a thousand thoughts that led to one end; that Harry Potter must be the one to fight him and that no other could do it for him. He was still a child. He should be out playing, and doing childish things; getting in trouble for throwing dung bombs in the corridors; he should not be losing all he has, and fighting the dark forces at the age of 16.  
  
I let out a long sigh. Lily and James and Sirius. They were all beyond reach now. They could no longer comfort him, care for him, love him. The boy deserves better. The boy needed better.  
  
Before they died I agreed to the same promise for all three. That if they passed on that I would help him, that I would watch him, that I would take care of him. Those promises dwell within my mind at all times. I have helped him as I can. I have tried to prepare him, I have tried to teach him; I merely hope it was enough. I have watched him too; I have done precious little else. I have watched him fight the darkness. I have watched him succeed in life, but also fail; also lose.  
  
It was a mistake, I see now, to allow oneself to grow so old. One grows tired of living and dying. One grows tired of bearing the world upon his shoulders as I have done for many years now. I suppose it is time that it passes on. I must pass the torch onto another. I must pass it onto the youth, onto my students, onto Harry Potter. And this thought fills me with more sadness than any other.  
  
The torch will pass, and better times will come. But I wish I were not so old and feeble to be unable to aid him any more than I have done. I have promised Lily and James and Sirius, but now I promise myself. I will care for Harry, prepare him, and make him ready for my torch, for my burden. I will see that he is ready for the end, whatever it may be. I will see that he does not face it alone. And I will see that he will live to see the day his own children become teenagers full of love and life, should it be the last thing I do; the last burden of an old man.  
  
There was a rap at the door and I came awake, faintly aware of how cold it had become.  
  
"Yes?" I called out.  
  
"Albus," said Minerva, as she entered my office, "the train has arrived, the students are making their way up to the school as we speak."  
  
"Very well then," I said as I rose to my feet. "I shall be with you in a moment."  
  
Minerva departed leaving me once again to my thoughts. I walked to the window once more and gazed out upon Hogwarts. I could see the scarlet engine in the distance, I could hear the student's laughter, and I could swear, that I could feel the strength of a boy amongst them; a boy on whom the world rests. 


	2. Reflections of a Stern Professor

Reflections of a Stern Teacher  
  
St. Mungo's was unusually cold that morning. Not like a nice breeze you sometimes got of the lake during the summer, but a bitter cold; the kind of a cold that warns of an early winter. I propped myself up a little bit to have a look around the room.  
  
It was a very plain room as most hospital wards are; a simple décor of white walls and lumpy beds covered in turquoise sheets. A few other patients were up as well despite the early hour; perhaps the cold woke them as well. I pulled the sheets I had kicked off in my sleep back around me, trying to keep warm. At my age doing just about everything was a great deal harder. The cold hurt more, wounds cut deeper, and I just couldn't take the strain I once could; that was the reason I ended up in St. Mungo's after all; four stunners can do that to you.  
  
Soon the sheets were tight about me and I was feeling quite a bit better; well enough to read the paper and have a bit of coffee at least. If there is one thing I've learnt from years of teaching, it's that coffee can do the body a world of good. As the warm liquid began to flow through my body all the warmth I'd lost started to return. It did feel good to have early in the morning. Prepared a body for the day, whatever it might bring.  
  
I picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet, which I assume a healer had left earlier that morning. I quickly glanced over the front page before taking another drink from my mug, at which point I did a double take, and spat the coffee I had just sipped all over my bed.  
  
It was impossible. How could it have happened? The Ministry of Magic had been attacked; a large group of death eaters rounded up; Dementors revolt. What had happened while I was out?  
  
I quickly scanned the article, snorting along at Cornelius' foolish statements. Only now did he believe Dumbledore, only when it had already begun, the great bungling fool.  
  
I had to get in touch with Dumbledore now. I had to be updated. I needed to know what happened. I called for an owl and it was soon off with a small message for Dumbledore. Hopefully he would be in touch within a few hours, until then I could only wait.  
  
To my immense surprise however Dumbledore appeared only a few minutes later. I felt like I had been hit by the stunners again, I almost went under too. He merely stared at me however, no chuckle or joke; quite unlike him. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong.  
  
He took a seat beside me, a heaviness obviously on his mind. What had gone wrong? What had happened to them that night?  
  
"Minerva." he said in a somber voice I had heard only once before, many years ago.  
  
"Albus.what?" I stuttered. I had a very bad feeling about this. "What happened?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. I had never known him to look so sad. He always had a cheerful light in his eyes, but his were now old and tired and dull.  
  
"Sirius. fell," he said simply.  
  
"Fell?" I said, afraid now.  
  
"He fell, in the department mysteries," answered Dumbledore. "He fell through the veil."  
  
I stopped breathing. My cup of coffee fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. My mind was blank. The shock was too much. I fell back against my pillow. How could this happen?  
  
Dumbledore was speaking but I couldn't hear him.  
  
"Minerva," he softly called out to me, "I must return to Hogwarts now, but I'll be back soon. Rest well."  
  
With a tiny pop Dumbledore had left again.  
  
For the longest time I just sat there, unable to process what I had just heard. Sirius was gone. They were all gone. James and Lily. Peter was as good as gone. Now Sirius. Lupin was the last. The old crowd was dying off.  
  
I sat there thinking of older times, better times. Days at Hogwarts when they still attended. The Marauders they were. Some of the greatest minds and troublemakers Hogwarts had ever seen.  
  
I remembered a time where they had bewitched the transfiguration classroom desks to buck and throw any Slytherins sitting on them from their desks. The time they turned the castle red and gold when Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. The time they were all caught outside after midnight, but managed to convince Hagrid they had found a dragon in the forest and escape while looked where they were pointed.  
  
They had been punished every time for all of this of course, it was her job. But she still found it all highly entertaining.  
  
But the world had changed. It was now a much colder place. Sirius represented the last of the Marauders. With only one left it was Lupin. No more gang to go around prank the Slytherins. No more would the corridors be full of the laughter of the troublesome boys.  
  
It then hit me harder than it had before; that this was a war. Sirius had known the risks, we all had, but it didn't truly hit home until that moment. You-know-who had begun this, and it would end with him.  
  
Only with him dead would the others fall, we had known this from the beginning. Yet Dumbledore never made a move to strike him. All we could do he said, was deter him. Deter and wait. Wait and hope.  
  
I thought now of Harry. I remember the thoughts that passed through my mind when last he had lost his family, and now this. It was too much for the boy. He had faced this fight too many times. It should not be his. He should be learning and living while he can. Not having to worry about who he'd lose to the darkness next, not having to worry about whether or not tomorrow would be his last day.  
  
He had grown up away from family, and once he finally had it again, it was snatched away. It must be horrible. Yet still through all of this, after the recovery of Sirius' loss, we would still remain to our plan. Our only chance it seemed, to wait and hope.  
  
But wait for what? Hope for what? Hope is a double-edged sword. We had hoped and for it all Sirius was dead.  
  
After all of our plans, our talks, our preparations, our precautions; after all of that we still had failed to protect our own.  
  
Voldemort had wanted to draw us out, and he had.  
  
Did Sirius ever have a hope?  
  
Did James and Lily?  
  
Did any of us? 


	3. Reflections of a Timid Teen

Reflections of a Timid Teenager  
  
The train went slowly by, a snails pace it seemed. The outside world was full of rain and storm, and the only thing to see was the lightning that flashed every now and again. The only sound to be heard was the steady chugging of the train and the patter of rain upon the windows.  
  
I was on my way home from King's Cross. Gran had been a bit too ill to pick me up so I was to take the train home on my own. It was a bit of a frightening experience even getting on alone. I'd said goodbye to all my friends and departed from the muggle platform. But I got lost trying to find which train I was to be traveling on. I had to ask someone for directions twice. It was even worse once I got on and found a place to sit. Trevor was really jumpy and I had to chase him around for a good 10 minutes before I finally caught him. Everyone was staring; it was quite embarrassing. At least on the Express this kind of thing didn't seem too out of place.  
  
I sat down again, feeling glum, looking out at the world and wondering about what Gran would say when she saw Dad's wand was broken. She would rage, that much I knew. But the real question would be how much?  
  
A stormy day, wand broken, made a fool out of myself on the train. The only thing left to go wrong was to fail most of my O.W.L.s.  
  
I wondered how Mum and Dad were. They didn't like the thunder, the loud noises would make them jump up and then they'd get really scared. It was horrible to see them like that. I dreaded just thinking about it.  
  
I pulled a gum wrapper out of my pocket and started handling it absent- mindedly. It was something I did to remind me of my parents, but it was kind of soothing too. It relaxed me, made me think of how Mum used to sing to me while I was little. It was a good feeling, and good feelings can be hard to find.  
  
I put it back in my pocket and focused on the rain outside. It really was depressing. If it were possible to get any more miserable and depressed I couldn't see how.  
  
But it was then I thought of someone else who wouldn't be having a good day either. Harry. He'd been sort of traumatized by the experienced at the Department of Mysteries; maybe even more than I had. He hadn't really talked with anyone for the longest time, mostly kept quite to himself. He even seemed distant from Ron and Hermione, and they were always talking before.  
  
It wasn't very hard to realize what was wrong with him; he had lost Sirius Black, who I suppose was a friend of his. He seemed devastated when he fell through that veil.  
  
I wondered who Sirius was to Harry. It's very hard to tell with Harry a lot of the time; he can be rather withdrawn in his emotions sometimes. Not at all a big surprise, he'd lost his mother and father around the same time I did; I know how hard that must have been. It must have been even harder for him though. At least I had Gran. I still had someone to help me, and care for me. Harry didn't have anyone. At least I didn't think so.  
  
I knew he lived with muggles, but I couldn't quite recall if they were nice people or not. It seemed to me they weren't though; Harry never seemed very happy to go home. In fact I think that this Christmas was the only time he's ever left. It must have been awful for him then; if the muggles weren't very nice that is. Gran can be harsh, but she's kind in her own way.  
  
I guess that Sirius Black would be another blow to him; another notch on the axe hanging above his head. Again my mind returned to Sirius Black and exactly who he was. The ministry had been saying he was a criminal, but they'd been lying about You-Know-Who since last year. Sirius Black also helped us in the Department. I settled that he must have been a kind sort of man; he died to protect Harry after all.  
  
So now I had decided for myself who Sirius was, but who was he to Harry? Was he a friend, a brother, a father? It can be hard to tell with people sometimes. Harry was missing a million people from his life. He'd never known a father, a mother, a brother, a sister. A family. I guessed that's what Sirius was. He was Harry's family. He'd be the kind of guy who could just sit down and talk to, I'd decided. He'd be the kind of guy who it didn't matter if you made yourself look stupid, because he'd still respect you for doing it in the first place. He'd be the kind of guy who would look out for you, just because he could and you needed him. I thought that he'd probably be the kind of guy, who another guy could like.  
  
I think I could use a guy like that too; I've never really had one. Sure I've had Gran, but she could be awfully intimidating sometimes. I could get scared just to ask the simplest of questions because I'd think I'd sound stupid. I though that with a guy like Sirius, or what I though Sirius was like, I'd be able to just do it. I wouldn't have to worry. I'd be able to talk about anything, or even nothing. Sometimes I needed someone to talk to; I didn't have anything to talk about but I'd still like to talk.  
  
Then I realized why Harry was so upset. He'd lost a guy like that. A guy who he wanted; who I wanted; who everybody wanted.  
  
Maybe I could be that guy for Harry I thought. We were kind of similar actually. He was much more brave and skilled than I was, but we did have some things in common. We'd both lost our families, we'd both felt out of place, and we both needed a guy just to talk to. I even thought that our birthdays may have both been at the end of July.  
  
I decided that I would write to him. I'd tell him about my secret of handling the gum wrappers, that it helped me; maybe it would help him. I'd tell him about how we could help each other both of us being close to orphans. I'd tell him that I could be a guy he could talk to if he wanted.  
  
The train pulled into the station and I got off. The sky had cleared up by then. The rain had stopped and the sun had finally come out.  
  
I thought then, maybe it wont be such a bad day after all. 


	4. Reflections of a Gentle Giant

Reflections of a Gentle Giant  
  
It was pleasantly calm that evening. A breeze was rolling off the water and across the grounds making it a very pleasant time for a walk as I had taken to doing.  
  
Now walking around the grounds of Hogwarts has a strange effect on me. I'm prone to fits of needing to go roaming about; I don't like to be cooped up too much y'know. It's just not the sort of think that I like, being stuck indoors all the time. That's one o' the reasons why I like being gameskeeper; that n' the fact that I can have some fun in the Forbidden forest.  
  
I decided maybe I should pay Grawpy a visit; I hadn't been out to see him for a while now, not since I first got back that is. I marched over to my cabin to pick up my crossbow. It's not safe in there anymore. The bloody centaurs are still insane. Always going my forest this n' my forest that. Drives me almost as crazy as they are. Dumbledore managed to set them straight a bit when he went in to fetch Umbridge, but they were still bloody arrogant if you ask me.  
  
I picked up my crossbow, put on my coat and started headin' for the forest. It was a strange sort of night in there; real quiet it was. But I kept goin'. Tried not to think much of it; the forest is a queer sort of place.  
  
Pretty soon I got to Grawpy's clearing, but he wasn't there. I suppose he'd been out looking for food. I hoped he hadn't been hurt or nothin', usually you could hear him, but it was very quiet.  
  
I thought it might be best if I got going, it didn't seem to be the best sort of a night for a walk in the woods. I started to head back, takin' my time though, nice n' slow. I did like the forest so I thought I might as well enjoy it a bit longer, even if I was leavin' it; that n' if I went slow I wouldn't make so much noise. No sense in wakin' whatever might be asleep.  
  
I did wish I'd gotten to see Grawpy though. He'd been getting' much better; not so violent and even pickin' up some English if you spoke real slowly. He was real important to me. All I had left for family. My mother'd been killed and m' dad'd died when I was just in second year. I thought I was alone til I found Grawpy. He's real important to me now. Gotta take care of family cuz when you boil down to it, that's all we've got left; our friends and family.  
  
Now as I was getting' out of the forest, I saw someone down by the shore. Some student by the look of him. He was too small to be a teacher, unless it was Flitwick, but he usually didn't come out at this time of night.  
  
I supposed that I'd best tell him off and send him up to bed, maybe take a few points off his house. I didn't give out detentions, it didn't feel right to me. You should tell them not to do it again sure, but sometimes they needed to do it, ya know? I knew the feeling so I wouldn't hold it against them.  
  
I was drawing closer to him from behind, he couldn't really see me, or hear me neither; I was still walkin' slow like I did comin' out of the forest. It was only then I realized that it was Harry.  
  
I stopped dead in my tracks.  
  
Harry was havin' a tough time I knew, he'd lost Sirius after all. I'd been real broken up when I heard about him. Sirius and me were great friends; Sirius and me and James. I'd been real broken up about James too. It was so bloody sad. I'd known the boys since they were just eleven, fresh off the train. But they were gone, along with Lily. Sad times they were, all you had was family.  
  
But Harry; Harry didn't even have that. He had no one. He'd lost James and Lily when he was just a baby. Sirius was all he'd had for a family. But now Sirius was gone too.  
  
I miss'd them all. James and Lily and Sirius. You just don't forget about them, not even for a minute really. They'd brought so much to all our lives; heck I'd spent what seems like half o' mine just chasing Sirius and James away from the forest. I'd seen them all a hundred times in different people since they'd gone. I saw Sirius and James in Fred and George Wealey, a bit of Lily in Hermione and every bit of James in Harry. Harry was the image of James, all except the eyes; he had his mother's eyes.  
  
Harry was back to being alone again. Thirteen years of being alone. Thirteen years with Dursley. Thirteen years and he'd finally found someone to be his father. I'd tried of course; I've always tried to help him out where I could. I was still going to try, but Sirius was what Harry really needed. Sirius was James' best friend. Sirius was who should be here looking after Harry.  
  
Sirius had been the one who watched out for Harry in the tournament. Sirius had been the one who'd broken out of Azkaban for Harry. Sirius who'd lived in that ruddy small cave and eaten rats for Harry. That was the kind of man Harry deserved to have as a father.  
  
But still he was gone. Nothin's ever right in the world I suppose, but we can still try can't we? There's gotta be a way for the right things to happen, for the good people t' live good lives. I wonder if anybody'll ever see a day like that.  
  
Through all my wondering I'd sort of stopped focusing on what went on around me, but a bit of movement up ahead brought me back. Harry got up and started t' walk back up t' the castle. He hadn't even noticed me; maybe it was for the best. The talk we'd had earlier didn't go so well.  
  
I watched him keep going back t'wards the castle doors, not even a glance back. I suppose he really didn't notice me, not that I could blame him; he did have quite a bit on his mind. I decided I'd best be going back to my cabin; it was getting quite late.  
  
As I stepped up to the door of my cabin I could hear a dull roar in the background. I smiled; so Grawpy was fine after all. Family's important. 


	5. Reflections of a Best Friend

Reflections of a Best Friend  
  
Home always had a good smell to it. Maybe it was the food we ate, or what Mum cleaned with, or maybe it was just all that junk that was collecting dust, but it smelt good. It was always nice to be home. Fred and George helped me take my stuff upstairs, I was dead tired and they had nothing better to do.  
  
They'd decided to keep living here, for a while at least. I don't know if they'll decide to stay once they'd got their shop running. Maybe they'll just decide to live above it; that way they won't have Mum and Dad screaming at them for blowing up a dungbomb at three in the morning.  
  
I sat down in my room, not really wanting to start unpacking. My mind started to drift around my room; looking at all the stuff I had piled up. There were lots of clothes littering the floor, a ton of Quidditch books wherever you looked, and even a few Easter eggs; I thought that it might be a good idea to clean up, before the eggs got too rotten.  
  
Sighing I picked myself up and began to tackle the mass of clutter that was my room. Well, it wasn't clutter so much as it was an organized mess, whose filing system had been long forgotten. I began digging through it all, sorting it into smaller piles of junk. Soon I'd gotten all my clothes in one pile for washing, all my Quidditch books by my bed, and those Easter eggs in the trash; but I still had a large box of trinkets I'd brought back from school. I opened it up and started trying to sort out the useful stuff from the junk. Extra quills, potions ingredients, and a little bit of money all ended up in a sort of neat pile on my bed, but I threw Hermione's homework planner into the trash; I'd had enough of it yelling at me that my Divination was 3 weeks overdue.  
  
Then I came across something else, I didn't really know what it was at first. It was a small ornament I'd had left over from when we had decorated Sirius' place at Christmas. He had been happier than I'd ever seen him then. Full of joy, caroling with us all; he was a fine sight.  
  
Then the bottom fell out of my stomach as I remembered; Sirius was gone now.  
  
He had died while I was making an ass of myself, high off a spell. I wished I could have done something to save him. I wished I could do something to help Harry.  
  
I'd known Harry for five years, almost six. He was the strongest person I'd ever known. He was brave, skilled, smart, but also tragic. He'd been through hell, and there was nothing I could do for him. We'd been through just about everything together.  
  
I remembered how we'd gotten to the Philosopher's Stone together. I'd been knocked out in a game of chess, but once I'd come to I'd done everything I could to help Harry. When he came out of there unconscious I could barely breathe. But he'd been ok then, he'd pulled through and everything was fine again.  
  
I remembered how we'd had to follow Hagrid's stupid spiders and ended up in the middle of Aragog's lair; that'd been a load of fun. But we'd gotten out of there too. It was just something about Harry, he wouldn't let himself or anyone else die there. He'd gotten us out again.  
  
He'd rescued Ginny, killed a basilisk, saved Buckbeak, freed Sirius, fended off a hundred Dementors, out flown a dragon, rescued me from the bottom of the lake, gone through a maze of monsters, and fought You-Know-Who four times. He'd been the strongest person I'd ever know. He'd gotten through everything the world had thrown at him. Him and me and Hermione.  
  
But I wondered if he could get through this? Could he make it through this last blow? We'd been there to help him where we could, but what could we have done for him with Sirius gone? Every time we'd tried to get close to him, to comfort him, he'd pushed us away.  
  
Not that 'Mione was much help; every time she'd seen him she'd tried to start talking about Sirius and how much more at peace he'd be now. Bugger that. Sirius needed to be alive. Sirius would've been much happier knowing that Harry was safe, that much I knew about him. He'd eaten rats for Harry, rats! Sirius had done everything for Harry's good. Harry knew that, hell, even I knew that.  
  
I was still thinking about if me and 'Mione could help him through it? Did he want our help? He'd built up walls around himself and wouldn't let them down for anyone, not even me, and I was his best friend. Hermione was always talking to herself about what Harry was thinking about, wasn't it obvious? You'd think someone as smart as her would be able to tell that Harry was grieving.  
  
I wondered what I should be doing for Harry. He was my best friend, how was I supposed to act right now? 'Mione was always much better at this than me; she was the feelings person; I was the Quidditch person.  
  
Should I be trying to help him or give him space?  
  
If I was going to leave him alone, for how long? I couldn't just let him sit there forever. His grief could completely dominate him.  
  
If I was going to help him what should I do? Should I try and comfort him and tell him it was going to be all right? Should I try and give him a little speech on how Sirius didn't have to fight anymore and that death couldn't be so bad? What had Dumbledore said? That to the well organized mind death was nothing but the next great adventure? Should I try and tell him that?  
  
God people are confusing, I thought; it drove me insane. I was just too indecisive about everything. I started thinking that life would be much easier if it were Quidditch. You take the quaffle and throw it in a hoop. You guard your own hoop. You knock bludgers at your opponents. You catch the snitch to end the game. The simplicity was nice.  
  
In life you've got to worry about too many things. You've got to think about what's happened, what's happening right now, and what's going to happen. It's not just opponents and teammates in life either; you've got to try and sort out who's what and sometimes they're both. It's not as simple as throwing the ball in the hoop and catching the snitch, you've got to figure out what you want, how you're going to get it. But once you do what you want has changed and so have you. Then there are everybody's feelings. It's all just a jumble to me, far too complex.  
  
I sighed. I'd just go with my gut instinct and my gut was telling me I was hungry. But just as I was turning to head downstairs an owl burst through the window, dropped a letter and flew out.  
  
It was a letter from Hermione telling me that I should write to Harry like she'd already done. She said I should be nice, but not too sappy. Try to console him, but not make it sound like I was preaching. I should say what I felt, but "don't say anything stupid", it read.  
  
I almost screamed.  
  
Life would be so much easier if it were Quidditch I swear. 


	6. Reflections of a Spiteful Ally

Reflections of a Spiteful Ally  
  
A bitter wind passed through the open window of my office. Trivial things like this normally wouldn't bother me in the least, but I was in a bad mood. A flick of my wand and the windows slammed shut. Perhaps I was a bit too angry, the shutters almost flew off their hinges, but at this point I was beyond caring much about how the shutters of the window looked.  
  
The letter was smoldering in the fire, it didn't burn as fast as it ought have. Perhaps it was because it was Dumbledore's paper, perhaps the fire wasn't hot enough or perhaps it was because the paper was still damp from the water I had spat upon it, but in any case after I had thrown it into the fire it had still sat there for 5 minutes, mocking my attempt to burn it, until it had finally shriveled up into ash.  
  
The words still seemed bitter. Just a short message from Dumbledore was all it was, saying what had happened in the Department; a quick note stating that Potter was fine and that Black was dead.  
  
You'd have thought it would make me happy.  
  
It didn't though. All I had was a feeling of disgust and utter loathing towards Black. Black who had tricked me; Black who had taunted me; Black who had humiliated me.  
  
I had told myself I would dance upon his grave, maybe that's why I wasn't happy, he wasn't just dead, he was gone and I had no grave to dance upon, no body to mock, no face at which to scream "I beat you Black, I beat you!".  
  
The war between myself and Black had gone on for ages. It should have felt good to be done with it; I couldn't grasp why it felt so bad.  
  
"I should have killed him myself," I said to no one in particular.  
  
That may have been it. I had sworn to have my revenge on him, but Lestrange had taken that away from me. I had sworn it every night for the past 20 years, sworn that in the end I would be triumphant. That I would maim him, or kill him or whatever I felt like, and it would feel sweet, it was supposed to taste sweet.  
  
This tasted more like bile than anything else.  
  
It was the same when Potter had died. I swore I would dance on his grave too; swore that I would continue to hate him for eternity, but in the end I hadn't danced on his grave. I had loathed him, oh yes, I always would loathe him, but I had to let him rest in piece.  
  
I don't know why, but Potter had made me owe him in some form. He had put me in danger and I hated him for it, but still I owed him. Down deep within me somewhere though I hated to admit it I owed him. That's why I couldn't dance upon Potter's grave, because I owed the man. Damn him! Damn Potter and damn Black too. Damn the lot of them.  
  
I didn't understand why it worked like that. Why couldn't I hate Black, why couldn't I be content to loathe him for eternity? Why must I feel retched about a man whom I despised?  
  
Black hadn't done anything for me; he had tried to kill me. I should be laughing, down at the Hog's Head drinking my eyes out in celebration; instead I was brooding in my office, psychoanalyzing myself.  
  
Black and I still had things to settle; even in his death he would give me no peace.  
  
Lestrange should have stayed out of it; it was my conflict; he was mine. If anyone should have killed him it should have been me, and so my thirst for retribution remained unquenched.  
  
I would kill Lestrange; I need vengeance of some kind. Black and I had a personal war; it was ours alone to fight, she had no right to interfere.  
  
"I will kill her and then I will be fine," I decided.  
  
Black's death would be at peace, and I could go back to loathing him. But that would not happen either, I knew; it had not worked with Potter.  
  
Potter remained still, his son at least, another taunt in this abysmal life, and he was just as arrogant and pinheaded as his father was. I knew he would be just like his father the moment I saw him, knew he would be just as loathsome and dense. So still I was unable to forget Potter and that damned black hair of his; I had a constant reminder of my teenaged torment, of my humiliation.  
  
"I will not allow this to happen again!" I screamed out, " I will not have Black haunting me. Lestrange will die by my hands."  
  
Damn Lestrange. Damn Black. Damn them all. 


	7. Reflections of the Boy Who Lived

Author's Notes: This is and is not how I planned to end this story. I know it has been a terribly long time since I last wrote, but after huge amounts of writers block and schoolwork I decided to move on. Originally I planned to have chapters for Lupin, Petegrew, Hermione and Cho, but realized I wouldn't ever be able to do them, so I have gone straight to the conclusion in the hopes that now I'll be able to move on to my Canon Fic, which I hope will have the first chapter up in the next week or so, and will be called Harry Potter and the Grail Tome. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this last chapter, it's taken a while to finally get down right.  
  
Reflections of the Boy Who Lived  
  
It was a rather fitting day for the event, poetic even. The sky was gray, it was cold, and rain probably wasn't very far off. Getting up that day was one of the hardest things I had ever done knowing what would happen if I got out of bed and joined the rest of the world.  
  
I was back at Grimaund Place after a few weeks at Privet Drive, which were a few more weeks than I would have liked. Dumbledore thought that I would be safe enough once again, and that I should not be alone considering the circumstances. I got out of bed and went downstairs to get a bit of breakfast.  
  
"Morning dear," said Mrs. Weasley as I walked through the door, "how are you feeling today?"  
  
"All right I suppose," I said and sat down to some toast and jam.  
  
"When are we going to be leaving for it?" I asked.  
  
"It's at about three, so we'll be taking a portkey at around two thirty," she answered.  
  
I wasn't in much of a mood for any more conversation, to tell you the truth I was barely able to keep my breakfast down and opening my mouth to speak probably wouldn't have helped the situation.  
  
I quickly finished my toast and headed upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. I put on my old jeans and one of my better fitting T-shirt, just so I would be comfortable until we left anyway. I lay back on the bed and just stared at the ceiling for a while not thinking, it was nice to not have to think, to not have to worry about Voldemort and Death Eaters and all the other things that wanted to kill me and my friends.  
  
I guess I must have nodded off because the next thing I knew Ron was shaking me awake.  
  
"Hey mate," he said. "Time to go."  
  
We just left it at that. Today wasn't really a day for talking, more of a day for thought and remembrance. I quickly changed into some better trousers and a nicer shirt and went downstairs to join everyone else.  
  
We all gathered round in the living room waiting for the portkey to become active, there were only a few of there since most people were going to apparate in, but there was still me, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Lupin and Tonks to protect us should anything go amiss.  
  
Remus broke the silence. "Just about time," he said checking his watch, "Three, two, one."  
  
Then with a familiar jerk the room world whirled into a blur of shapes and colours as we traveled across Britain.  
  
Just as suddenly as it had started it stopped and we were standing on the grounds of what looked as though it used to be a well kept manor at one point, if it had only been maintained. There were benches, flowers, and trees, but all seemed as though they could use a bit of extra attention.  
  
"Okay, this way everybody," Remus said, leading the way down a stone path through the estate.  
  
We walked along for a good ten minutes through a sheltered forest until we reached the grounds. Unlike other parts this area was quite well kept. The grass was nice and even, beautiful flowers were scattered around, and all the stonework looked very well maintained. It was perhaps the nicest cemetery I had ever seen.  
  
The others had already arrived; I could see them in the distance. Moody was there, as was Kingsley, the rest of the Weasleys, and a few other people I couldn't recognize. We joined them, all of us wearing our solemn faces, waiting for the Headmaster to arrive.  
  
In front of me lay the casket of my Godfather, Sirius Black. I had dreaded this moment since I had learnt it would occur. The Ministry had managed to recover Sirius' body from the veil, I hadn't bother asking for the details, but here he lay now in front of me.  
  
It was so odd now. I had been thinking about this moment so hard, for so long. I had been through every possible feeling with his death. Denial, depression, anger, self-loathing, but I couldn't describe how I felt now. It was as if I weren't really here. It was a bit of an overload I guess you could call it.  
  
I could feel the eyes watching me; everyone was staring at me, worried about me I know, but staring nonetheless. I knew they had been talking about me behind my back. I was almost about to hear the thoughts passing through their heads. They all made their assumptions about me, about how I was doing, about what I was thinking, but I suppose I was used to it by now. Frankly, even I didn't know how I was feeling.  
  
I sensed someone approach me from behind.  
  
"Ready Harry?" asked my Headmaster.  
  
I nodded; it was all I was really capable of. Dumbledore moved around to the front. All eyes turned towards him.  
  
"Friends," he said, "we are here today, to remember Sirius Black. This is a time to remember the fallen and the sacrifice they have given so that we might be here. Now is a day for reflection upon what has happened, and how he has touched our lives."  
  
As Dumbledore went on I began to tune out. I remembered Sirius, his bark like laughter and all the support he had given to me. I remembered Magnolia Crescent, of the Triwizard Tournament, and of Grimaund Place.  
  
I thought of the Marauders at Hogwarts. I thought of my parents wedding with Sirius acting as best man. I thought of that Halloween night when it all ended. I thought of the years of Azkaban he faced. I remembered that night in the Shrieking Shack. I remembered him flying away with Buckbeak. I remembered of all the help he had ever given me, and his ultimate sacrifice within the Department of Mysteries.  
  
I think Remus was speaking then, some hollow words about life at Hogwarts, but it didn't really seem to matter anymore. Even in this tranquil cemetery, I was not at peace. Could I ever be at peace?  
  
Remus had finished, Dumbledore was done, no one else had words to speak; the service was over.  
  
Slowly the casket began to sink into the earth. Remus looked blankly down at it. Dumbledore stared sadly as Sirius sank below. Ron seemed to be in a trance and Hermione was teary eyed. I could feel the tears, the need for emotional outburst, but my eyes remained dry.  
  
The casket was all the way underground now, and the ground sealed itself above it, flowers sprouting just below the headstone. One by one, with a faint crunch of grass in their wake, people began to march back towards the manor.  
  
Hermione and Ron were at my side and I knew it was time to go back. I turned to leave with them, but felt a hand on my shoulder stopping me.  
  
"Not yet Harry," said Dumbledore serenely, "I think you are long overdue to finally be here. Come with me."  
  
I was steered by Dumbledore back towards Sirius, Ron and Hermione following at a distance.  
  
He led me back to see Sirius' headstone, only it wasn't alone, beside it stood another much larger one.  
  
"Is that..?" I started.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore.  
  
I gazed down at the grave in disbelief.  
  
James and Lily Potter  
  
1953-1981  
  
"This is the Potter family cemetery. Your parents have been buried here since their deaths."  
  
"Then why is Sirius here?" I asked.  
  
"Sirius was an outcast to the Blacks, but he will forever be a brother of Potters. Sirius requested, and James agreed, that he could be buried here when the time came, whatever the circumstances."  
  
I stared down at the three parents I had had and it suddenly hit me all at once.  
  
I thought of all the death I had seen. I thought of all the good and evil in the world. I thought of all the happiness and sadness that feels the lives of every being. I thought of all the love and loss. I thought of how much I missed them all.  
  
And with that thought, I wept.  
  
I feel to my knees and cried. I cried as Dumbledore began speaking. I cried as Ron and Hermione joined us, and I kept crying as Hermione and Ron pulled me into a deep embrace.  
  
I cried and cried and cried, until I was practically dehydrated from all of it, and then I just sat there, Ron and Hermione with me, none of us speaking a word. My friends were here for me I realized. I may be slipping, but they were still hanging on. There was still life. I still had to live, not only for myself, but for Sirius too. Maybe there was still and chance for this world after all.  
  
"Ron, Hermione.thank you."  
  
"It's okay Harry," Hermione said, "it's all okay."  
  
We got up and began to walk back towards the Potter Estate. Dumbledore had been both right and wrong once again. Today was a day for reflection, but not singularly. Today was a day for reflections of death; a day for the realization of life; and a day for revelations that there is still hope for all of us. Today was the day that I recognized, that it may be my destiny for my life to end, but it would be my choice that would decide what that end would be.  
  
Today was the day that my reflections ended. 


End file.
